Frequency
by 1boo
Summary: They are entwined in the same wire. When death hangs over her like a shadow, she can hear the faint electric buzz. Team 7 centric. Oneshot.


**A/N: a little over-the-years quicky I typed up today. I think I need to get off the computer and go do something productive. Yeah. Like read The Lord of the Rings trilogy. Cause that's... real productive... anyways, enjoy :)**

Frequency

At first, Sakura could only feel it when she was so immersed in sadness that the world went quiet. When the world went quiet, she could hear Sasuke. She could hear Naruto. Most of all, she could hear the tie between them all crackling, as if with electricity.

Team seven. Her heart throbbed. Team seven. Sakura's parents were not ninja. They'd never felt this. Sasuke walked past them, then paused. Maybe he knew they could hear him. Hear him with their hearts. Maybe people could only hear Sasuke when they're walking to a funeral. Walking to a funeral in a dress all in black. For the first time in her life she wants to dye her hair brown. Let her blend in with this city. Sway to the beat of grief.

But at that moment, in that windy alleyway after the Hokage was dead, they walked as one. Every frequency set together. They were unique as one. There was no other team seven. Not when the Hokage was dead and Sasuke's mother and father and cousins and uncles and aunts and grandparents were dead along with Naruto's mother and father and cousins and uncles and aunts and grandparents. With them, the rest of her world was dead to her.

Sakura never let her mother brush her hair anymore, not even when she was tired or sick or sad. Not even when she knew the Hokage was dead with Naruto beside her — now of all times she was understanding just what his dream _entailed_ — and she was a sucker for dreams. No. They swung to the same frequency, and that was _all_.

--

Years later her love of dreams had only hardened with her heart. And probably her eyes, the way her mother looked at her when she stopped by.

As if the woman wanted to say "where is my baby?"

Sakura was glad she didn't ask, because she didn't know. It was probably the last straw for those baby eyes a while ago. Maybe Sasuke and Naruto had them. Maybe the baby girl was six feet deep in the ground with a solid grave sitting heavy on her chest.

What mattered was that the woman's baby was gone. Sorry mom. Too bad.

The woman walked down her stairs away from her apartment. Only civilians did that. Just watching her made Sakura frustrated enough to jump out her window and run along the sides of walls all the way to the grave stone, with the names of those who didn't come back.

She wasn't lost enough to search for her own name on it. She wasn't lost at all. She was on frequency, perfect and clear. Happily determined and team seven's girl.

--

When Naruto came back, it was as if he'd never left. Of course he hadn't. Physically, sure and she'd been pissed for a while. But when he came back the ties crackled with their weird non-electricity. In tune. Synchronized. Clear and determined. Both were ready to grab the electric ties and let the shocks rip through their hearts and pull Sasuke in, drag him.

Orochimaru was _not_ on their plane of being. Team seven would never allow it.

--

As simple as that. But whenever Sakura tried to describe it, she got all muddled up and decided to just get to work and concentrate on patching up whoever's guts she was operating on, where a kunai went through. Stupid of him. But then, they were the best of the best weren't they? Better set a low bar for the poor people below them. Not _everyone_ was the next Hokage or the most talented young ninja in the country — maybe the world, going by Orochimaru's preferences — and one of Konoha's three best mednin, the Hokage's apprentice. No. Only three in the world.

--

They were her boys and she was their girl, and they never needed anyone else.

**A/N: I seem to be unable to write lately. Well, I try (like this) and then spit out nothing really worth reading. Which makes me kind of sad, since slumps are sad things. Oh well. Please review!**


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